


Wrapped In Red

by chooken



Series: 12 Days of Westlife [11]
Category: Westlife
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Awkward Kissing, Boxers, Chatting & Messaging, Christmas Party, Eavesdropping, Elevators, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Matchmaking, Relationship Advice, Running Away, Secret Crush, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 09:18:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8973877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: Mark is accidentally included in a text chat between the other three lads.
Or, Mark and Nicky are idiots.  Just complete fucking idiots.
Inspired by Wrapped in Red by Kelly Clarkson.





	

_What an utter twat._

Mark snorted, tucking his phone away. On the other side of the room he saw Nicky do the same, pushing his phone back into his pocket. Shane was doing it too, smirking to himself. Kian was stuck in the corner, apparently bailed up by a very exuberant man who was too many glasses of sherry into the festivities.

Simon's Christmas party. It was always a bit of a slog. Saying hello to everyone they knew, and everyone they didn't know, and everyone they didn't really care to know. Mandatory, of course. Because if there was one thing Simon loved more than anything, it was a chance for publicity, for everyone to make connections, even if it was a week out from Christmas and Mark wanted to do literally anything else.

They'd started the group text the second year. It had been Nicky, actually, trapped by some woman who had been chewing his ear off for an hour. He'd texted _help,_ a plea to the other four, and before long Bryan had been sidling over, mentioning that Nicky was needed for a moment, and he was very sorry to interrupt.

The channel had stayed open that night. Escape routes from long conversations, even just bitchy comments. It certainly made the evening more entertaining, and now, four years later, they were still happily doing it, though they were one down. Shane had just finished edging across the room now, was murmuring something soft in Kian's ear, looking apologetic, and Kian nodded, made his excuses, and followed Shane away.

“Do you think there'll be snow?”

Mark turned. Nicky had wandered over, was looking out the window beside him, two champagne flutes in his hand.

“Probably not,” Mark admitted. He accepted one of the flutes. “Thanks.”

“Thought you needed a cup of Christmas cheer.”

“At this amazing party?” Mark joked. “Hardly need it.”

“I'll finish it for you,” Nicky offered.

“I didn't say I didn't want it.” He necked the champagne quickly, handing it off to a passing waiter. “How you been, anyway? How's your Christmas?”

“You've been here for literally the whole thing,” Nicky pointed out, laughing. It was true. They'd been on the promotional junket for weeks, squashed in buses and planes. “It's fine. I don't know.” He hesitated, looking out the window again. “My first Christmas by myself. Feels weird.”

“You'll get used to it.”

“Personal experience?”

“Twenty-six years and counting.” Nicky was giving him a sympathetic look. “I'm sorry. Being a misery. Didn't mean it like that.” He touched Nicky's shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I mean... I think so. It's been almost a year. I'm not pining or anything. I'm over it.”

“But it's Christmas.”

“But it's Christmas,” Nicky sighed. “Best time of the year.” They both looked down as their pockets vibrated. It was Shane, this time.

_Man beside you has the worst toopay I've ever seen_.

They both glanced to their left, Nicky giggling softly and Mark allowing himself a smirk when they saw. Shane raised his glass from across the room. They raised their own in return.

“Think he knows he spelled toupee wrong?”

“Probably not,” Nicky laughed. “Doesn't matter, anyway.” He grabbed them a couple more drinks from a waiter. “Here.”

“Thanks.” He sipped it, hesitated, then knocked it back as well. Everyone else was getting plastered, so there was no point affecting any decorum. “Going to the bathroom. See you soon.” He wandered off, feeling a little unsteady on his feet now, but enjoyably fizzy. He found a stall and banged inside, sitting down and leaning his chin in his hand, looking down at his feet, at the red silk boxers suspended between his knees.

He hadn't meant to wear them, these garish things that had come with the fanmail, except he'd been out of clean laundry. They weren't really comfortable, he was more a cotton person, but they were fine in a pinch. He felt a bit adventurous wearing them, actually, a bit outside his comfort zone.

He was pondering that when his phone vibrated.

_Did you do it?_

He looked at it in confusion. What was Kian talking about? He stared blankly, wondering if he should text back. He was still pondering when another message popped up on the screen.

_No. Chickened out._ Nicky. Mark tilted his head, trying to figure it out.

Shane: _Oh come on!_ _I'll do it if u want._

Nicky: _Don't you dare!_

Kian: _It's just Mark! He's gay. Go tell him_.

Mark was confused. Obviously they didn't realise they'd included him in the chat too. His was the last name on the list, was cut off on the top of his screen. He pursed his lips.

Nicky: _What if he laughs in my face?_

Shane: _TELL HIM!_ Mark blinked. What the hell was going on?

Nicky: _What am I supposed to say?_

Kian: _I'm in love with u, would u like to gobble my knob?_

Nicky: _Kian!_

Mark almost laughed out loud. He could hear it in their voices, Kian's teasing smugness, Nicky's outrage.

Then the words filtered through.

Oh.

He swallowed, squinting as he scrolled back up through the conversation, sure he'd read it wrong.

Oh.

Shane: _So your not in love with Mark? Cos ye were pretty sure last nite when you were winging in my room_.

Nicky: _Do you mean whinging?_

Shane: _Fuck off Nicky you know what I meant :( He keeps walking under the mistletoe anyway. Just tackle him._

Kian: _This crazy bint is trying to show me pictures of her kids_

Shane: _On my way_

The texts stopped. Mark stared, waiting for something else, but a few minutes later realised he was still sat on the toilet, staring at his phone, heart pounding while the seat carved a ring into his arse.

This had to be a prank.

It had to be.

He washed his hands slowly, waiting for a telltale buzz in his pocket. Then, heart in his throat, he pushed open the bathroom door and stepped back outside.

“Hey.” Shane was stood near the door, a tiny sandwich in his hand.

“Hey,” Mark said numbly. “Erm... how's it going, then?”

“Yeah, bored. Going to give it a half hour and then sneak out.” He nodded towards Nicky. “Think he's getting stuck into the drinks. Might need a hand to get back to the hotel.” A cheeky smile shifted over his face. “You alright to take care of him if I nip out? Get him back to his room?”

“I.. yeah. I guess.” Shane was looking smug. That face he got when he thought he was being really clever. “Erm... going to go get another drink.” He needed one. Especially when he saw blue eyes dart up from where Nicky was stood talking to a lass from the record company, saw them soften slightly when they looked his way. He swallowed hard, carefully side-stepping the mistletoe as he made his way to the bar.

Nicky.

It wasn't like he'd never noticed Nicky. He was nice-looking, of course. They all were, in a way that was very deliberately about hairstyles and make-up and clothes and being marketable. It was expected. Though he'd seen Nicky when he hadn't been so cute, as well. Three in the morning, lack of sleep, trollied out of his brain and puking in the gutter.

It was Nicky. They were friends.

And... and maybe Mark had had an enormous crush on him, once upon a time.

It was probably silly, now. But at the time, completely confused by his own sexuality, and always in each other's pockets, maybe he'd... noticed. It had been fluttery and stupid, utter puppy love. Nicky had been with Georgina, and Mark had been what probably would have been called infatuated, had wanted to be around Nicky all the time, wanted to impress him, and make him laugh.

And then he'd grown up, and put it aside. Because there had been no point. Pining was a waste of time.

He hadn't thought about it in years.

He glanced over his shoulder, saw Nicky watching him. Saw it for what felt like the first time.

Felt a trickle of warmth spread through him, a flood of confused want.

His phone vibrated. He waited a long moment, while the others checked theirs. Counted to ten, just so they wouldn't realise he'd gotten it too. Then, surreptitiously, he pulled it out.

Nicky: _I'm going to do it._

Mark looked around. Nicky was crossing the floor. Their eyes locked. Nicky bit his lip. Mark stared back, feeling his heart speed up.

Nicky hesitated.

Turned away.

Mark watched him flee into the bathroom.

Two texts came through at almost the same time.

Shane: _You bottled it!_

Kian: _We've got a runner!_

Half a minute later:

Nicky: _Fuck off!!!_

Mark laughed, unable to help himself. Shane was stood over near a potplant in the corner, looked to have accrued a handful of finger-food, which he was awkwardly eating with one hand while he fumbled his phone with the other. Kian was pretending to look out the window, but kept glancing at his phone, his face stuck in a smirk.

This was ridiculous.

He took a deep breath in, trying to get all the information straight despite the fizz of champagne in his head.

Okay.

Right.

Erm...

He swallowed hard, and tried to avoid burying his face in his hands in frustration. He didn't know what to do. Didn't know if he felt the same way. He'd killed that part of himself, done it out of self-preservation. Given the mooning and the butterflies their marching orders and resolutely scrubbed it out of himself.

It was just Nicky.

Nicky, his friend. Who was definitely attractive. Who was fun, and kind, and a competitive, passionate idiot who got in crazy moods and was always the first one to suggest something stupid. Who barged into a room like he meant to fill up all the space and didn't give a shit if he was the one with the loudest laugh.

And apparently he was so into Mark that he was hiding in a bathroom.

It was... actually sort of flattering.

Nicky who'd been with a girl up until a year ago, and Mark didn't know what he thought all this was about, if Nicky was just confused or something, or if maybe he...

Oh Jesus.

Maybe Nicky had left her because...

No. No. Getting ahead of himself.

But...

His phone vibrated.

Kian: _What are you doing in there?_

Nicky: _Having a bloody panic attack._ Mark could almost hear the frustration in his voice. _Can't do it. Going back to the hotel_.

Shane: _Don't u dare._ There was a long pause, and Mark saw Shane chew his lip, glance around for a moment, then trot towards the bathrooms. Mark looked back at his phone.

A hand fell to his shoulder while he was waiting for more to come through.

“Hey.” Kian sat down beside him, while Mark hurriedly trying to turn the screen away. “How are you?”

“Fine.” He waved for another drink, sure he needed one. A vodka landed in front of him a moment later. “Erm...” He glanced down into the swilling liquid. “Might head off soon. You know if Nicky's okay? He ran to the bathroom really fast.”

“He's fine.” Kian gestured for a drink as well. “Probably just too many vodkas. Shane's checking on him.” His pause floated in the air, sinking down around Mark's ears. “Feel a bit sorry for him, actually. First Christmas without Georgina and all that.”

“Yeah. It must be... I mean, it's hard, isn't it,” Mark managed. “Sure he'll be okay.”

“Suppose so. Surprised he's not back on the horse, actually. God knows girls have been catapulting themselves at him.” He shrugged. “Think if someone liked him, they'd want to hurry up. You know, before they miss their window.” Mark nodded, trying not to go red. Kian was watching him furtively, sipping his drink. “Girls. Guys...”

Mark almost choked on his drink.

“Scuse me?” He tried to sound baffled, but it was hard with panic closing his throat. “Guys?”

“Yeah. I mean...” Kian shrugged. “What, you don't get that feeling?”

“Er... no. No. I mean, he hasn't said anything to me.” He looked at Kian. “What, has he said something to you?”

“Sort of.” Kian sipped his drink. “You know that'd make sense, actually? How long have you been single, now? And you two are already friends, so...”

“Ehm.” Mark suspected he looked like a deer in headlights. “Sorry, me and Nicky?”

“Why not?”

Mark didn't know what to say. A thousand reasons. A million of them. A billion of the obstinate little fucks, all determined to say that he and Nicky could only be a huge mistake. He'd spent ages thinking about the reasons, convincing himself to let them go.

“I think you'd be cute together.” Mark couldn't reply. Couldn't believe they were having this conversation, and didn't know what to say to least incriminate himself. He'd never told anyone about his crush. Didn't intend to start now. Kian was still staring at him.

“We're not...” He heard his own voice crack. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

Kian's bright excitement dulled slightly. Mark swallowed. “No?”

“Maybe you should ask him out, then?” Mark tried to joke. “If you fancy him so much.”

“Not my thing, mate. Cheers.” Kian elbowed him. “There's no universe where you'd give it a go? Nicky, I mean. I know you've already tried the... the gay thing.” He was going slightly pink now. Mark tried not to laugh.

“I hadn't ever thought...” He couldn't stop thinking about it. Old feelings washing back up. Old reasons not to allow them. “It's probably not the best idea, anyway. What if we get together and then break up? We only just survived with the Bryan thing. I wouldn't want to...”

“Fuck that,” Kian snorted. “He quit, and just to be safe Simon had us record a shit covers album. I'm sick of being safe. Being safe made Bryan quit. Being safe isn't doing a fucking thing for any of us.” Mark blinked. Kian looked almost outraged.

“We're living on the edge now, are we?”

“I'm just saying...” Kian sighed, sounding frustrated. “If Nicky asked you out tonight, would you say yes?”

“Er...” Mark blinked. He didn't know how to respond. Was suddenly numb, all his thoughts going in a confused circle. Kian was watching him expectantly. Nicky had just come out of the toilets, was looking over, concern pinching his features when he saw Kian and Mark sitting close together. Shane was talking quietly to him, looked like he was trying to comfort. “I don't know.”

Nicky pulled out his phone. Mark shoved his quickly in his pocket, not wanting Kian to notice it vibrating.

Kian glanced at his own a moment later, pursed his lips, turning the screen casually away from Mark's view, already sidling out of his seat.

“See you in a minute.”

He jogged off.

Mark pulled out his phone.

_I'm going back to the hotel. I can't do this_.

“Hey.” He looked up. Nicky was standing in front of him. “I'm headed off. See you in the morning.” Mark nodded. They were headed to the airport tomorrow, the three of them, Nicky to Dublin, them on a plane to Sligo. Mark stood, wanting to hug Nicky the way he always did, not sure where to start.

“I might come with you,” he found himself saying. “Ready to pack it in.”

A flash of panic crossed Nicky's face. Mark swallowed his own down.

“Yeah. Sure,” Nicky said, too casually. “Split a cab?”

They said goodbye to the others. Shane gave Nicky a smug look. Kian looked worried when he came out of the bathroom, eyes darting between them, obviously desperate to tell Shane everything once they left. They took the stairs down the four floors, Nicky jogging slightly ahead until they pushed out onto the street.

The cab smelled a bit. They both sat in the back, staring out their windows.

They took the lift up once they were at the hotel. It stopped halfway, shuddering slightly as it slowed. Nicky's hand grasped automatically at his. When Mark looked up Nicky was turning an embarrassed frown at the door.

“Sorry.” Their hands separated again. Mark was about to say something, but a few drunk lads were piling in, squashing between them, and it really wasn't the time. They finally sidled out a few floors later. Nicky was already headed for his room.

“Night, Nicky,” Mark said helplessly.

“Night.” Nicky stalked off. The door closed behind him.

Mark sighed, and let himself into his own room.

He brushed his teeth, then flopped down onto the bed in his red silk boxers and a t-shirt. Stared at the ceiling, feeling almost like he'd had too much caffeine. Restless and like there was something buzzing under his skin, something that felt like Nicky, and the nervous, hopeful looks he'd gotten all evening.

Kian was right, probably. Safe all the time, and where had it gotten him? He was about to miss a second chance at someone he'd wanted, and why? Because he was afraid of rocking the boat? Afraid of admitting, actually, that he hadn't gotten rid of those feelings as thoroughly as he'd thought? Because he suspected if this started, if he and Nicky really did get together, that he'd be so lost from the first moment he'd never be able to find his way out?

He loved Nicky.

It was fucking inconvenient.

He was moving before he could second-guess it. Didn't know what he'd been waiting for. Nicky was literally next door, and here he was, sat on his own, the evidence of Nicky feeling the same way blinking on his phone.

Another text came through, a shrill buzz.

He picked the phone up, holding his breath.

Nicky: _I'm going to the airport. I'm sorry. I'll see you lads after Xmas. Tell Mark I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye._

Mark froze. He could hear it, the door up the hall creaking open, the trundle of a suitcase being dragged on wheels. The lift was right outside his door. He heard it ding.

He shoved out the door, not sure what the hell he thought he was doing.

The lift doors slid shut, but in the moment before they did he saw eyes widen in surprise, flick to the red boxers he was wearing, the ratty t-shirt.

Shit.

Mark ran for the stairs before he could stop himself.

The steps were cold under his bare feet. He had a feeling he'd just set off the fire alarm and couldn't care, not when he was pounding down the stairwell. Three floors down. Five. Seven. He hit the ground floor out of breath and heart racing, and shoved the door open, heard the elevator ding at the same time.

“Hey,” he gasped. Nicky stared at him, suitcase still gripped it one hand.

“Er... hey.” Nicky blinked, still in the lift, Mark stood in the lobby and glad it was early and there weren't any people about, because he was suddenly aware that his legs were bare, goosebumps raising on pale skin, and these boxers were probably not the most appropriate attire. He really hoped they left more to the imagination than he suspected they did.

It was definitely cold in here. He heard one of the receptionists whisper to the other, and then start to giggle. Suddenly he was as red as the boxers.

“Where are you going?” he blurted.

“Just...” Nicky looked down at his suitcase, like he thought there was any other way to explain this. “I was talking to my mam, and there's a red-eye. Thought I might...”

“You were talking to your mam at two in the morning?”

Nicky's mouth opened, obviously trying to formulate a reply. Before he could, though, the elevator doors closed.

“Fuck.” He growled, pushing at them. They creaked back open again. Nicky was bright red.

Mark started to laugh.

“Fuck off,” Nicky mumbled. Mark shook his head, unable to stop. It was just so unbelievable, Nicky running away from him at two in the morning, skipping the _country_ , for fuck's sake, and it was all over _Mark_.

This wasn't something that happened to normal people. Not something that happened to _him_.

“Do you want to come back upstairs?” he said helplessly. Nicky was staring at his boxers. “I was going to watch some TV before bed. I mean, if your flight's not...” He edged closer to the lift. “If you've got time.”

“I...” Nicky hesitated. The doors tried to close again. He pushed them back open, glaring like it was the lift's fault.

They ended up stood awkwardly in the lift. Mark was endlessly grateful when the doors closed and it began to rise, could see Nicky's eyes darting towards him. He didn't know what to say. Didn't know what he planned on doing when they got back upstairs. He felt a bit like he was prodding a beehive, but it couldn't go on like this. His tongue felt like carpet.

“Nice boxers,” Nicky whispered. Mark groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“Thanks,” he mumbled. Nicky giggled. “This is the weirdest thing I've ever done, isn't it?”

“Maybe.” The lift slowed. He saw Nicky's eyes close, saw his hands clench into anxious fists.

He was taking Nicky's hand before he could think about it. Saw blue eyes shoot open.

“Scared?”

“Terrified,” Nicky murmured. He looked at Mark, a shuddering breath sinking out of his chest. “Mark, I...” The doors opened. Mark didn't let go of his hand. Time seemed to still, as they both stood less than ten feet from Mark's door, looking out onto the carpeted corridor.

The doors slid shut again.

“Guess we're going down again,” Mark commented. Nicky stepped a little closer, hand tightening in his grip.

“Guess we are.” Mark turned, and when he did Nicky was looking at him carefully. Mark smiled back. “I'm in love with a boy.” Mark nodded silently, not sure what else to do. “I'm really really in love with a boy, and I feel like he'll never like me back.”

“Should I comment on the bit where you're gay?”

“I'd prefer you didn't.”

“Right.” The doors opened again. Bottom floor. The receptionists stared at them. Nicky hit the button with the hand not still clinging to Mark's. The doors slid shut. “Nicky, I...” He chewed his lip, trying to think. “Look, I get it, okay. I do. It's hard. Especially with the band and everything.” Nicky nodded. “I fancied a boy too. Few years ago. It was... not the best time. It was stupid really. He was straight, had a girlfriend, and I just... I forced it down. Didn't do anything about it, and in the end it just went away.”

“You're saying I should just let it go?”

“No.” He sucked in a breath. “I think you should be sure it's what you want first.”

“I am. Sure.”

“Then why haven't you said anything?”

“What if he doesn't say it back?”

“Then he's a fucking idiot.” Mark looked down. “I'm a fucking idiot.” The doors opened. Nicky was staring at him, and suddenly Mark didn't give a shit that he was wearing his boxers, or that he was in a hotel lift at two in the morning. Nicky's hand was sweaty and trembling in his. “Should we get out of this thing? We're just fucking going up and down and not actually getting anywhere.”

“Not yet.” Nicky pressed the button. The doors closed again. They began to descend. “Do you wish you'd said something?”

“No.” Honestly, no. “No. If I had, I would've been shot down. In a heartbeat. He wasn't ready. I didn't think he was ever going to be ready. It was more important to keep our friendship, so that was what I did. I can't change what happened, but...” He turned, saw conflicted eyes stormy with tears. “Do you know for sure that he'll say no?”

“No.” Nicky's lip was red from gnawing. “I don't want to be by myself. I don't want to lose him either. It's too hard.” He was studying Mark carefully. “I'm really scared.”

“You're scared of lifts, and we've been riding in one for the last five minutes.”

“Maybe this is scarier,” Nicky sighed. Their eyes locked. Nicky leaned in slightly, swayed back. Licked his lips. “Er...”

Mark rolled his eyes and leaned in.

There was a whimper of surprise. Blue eyes locked with his, searching, and Mark stared back. Maybe the most awkward kiss he'd ever been involved in, both of them staring at each other over pursed lips, their noses squashed together.

Mark pulled away, licking his lips. Nicky touched his mouth, eyes wide.

The doors opened.

“Er...” Nicky was going red. Mark was too, his face hot. He wondered, for a moment, if he'd made an idiotic mistake. Then Nicky started laughing, eyes crinkling up, and he had to smile back. It was just too absurd.

The doors closed again, the lobby disappearing. They began to go up again. Mark couldn't stop smiling.

“Sorry.”

“It's fine.” Nicky's fingers were still on his bottom lip. “It's fine. I just didn't...” He giggled. “Oh.”

“You had a girlfriend,” Mark said stupidly. “I just figured...”

“That's... yeah. No.” He looked away, still blushing. “I fancy the hell out of you,” he said quietly. “I want...” He swallowed. “Do you want?”

“I don't know,” Mark replied. “I hadn't even thought it in so long, but then...” He sighed. “Mm.”

“Mm,” Nicky agreed. “Well.” His voice cracked, and he grinned, peeking up at Mark from under lowered lashes. “What now?”

“Don't know.” The other hand slid into his, and Mark felt a thrill he hadn't in years when warm, trembling fingers squeezed his.

The lift stopped.

“We should get out,” Nicky said. Mark nodded.

The carpet was soft under his bare feet. He had to let go of Nicky's hand to get his door open, was glad it was still a little ajar from his race to the lobby, because he'd entirely forgotten his key. The door closed behind them once they were inside, and he turned to find Nicky smiling at him, nervous.

Mark leaned in again.

The kiss broke, after long seconds. He'd wondered, a long time ago, what Nicky tasted like. Had been sure it was perfect.

It was even better than that.

A pink tongue darted out to swipe at swollen lips. Mark looked down at their joined hands.

“Nice boxers,” Nicky teased. “Red suits you.”

“Cheers.” He glanced down, realised there was no way Nicky could think he was cold now. He was drawn closer, wanted to start laughing hysterically and never stop. Lips touched gently to his. He sank.

Nicky jerked in surprise, just as Mark's phone let out a buzz from the dresser. He grabbed it, peered at the screen. Nicky dug his own out of his pocket.

Shane: _Don't you dare run away!_

Nicky was about to say something, then his gaze dropped to Mark's phone, eyes clearing in understanding. Mark felt his cheeks redden.

“How did you...” Nicky was going pale with horror. “Wait, you could read...?”

“Er...” Mark winced. “Sorry?” Nicky was glaring. “Hey, if I hadn't you would have been on a plane by now.” It was a weak excuse. Nicky's eyes were narrowing. “It's not my fault.” He touched Nicky's arm. “All worked out for the best, didn't it?”

“You absolute...”

Nicky pounced, growling.

Mark caught him, laughing as he was pinned into a kiss.

 


End file.
